


Icarus

by GraeWrites



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, cursing, emotional breakdown, nausea mention, self-deprecation, touch-starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraeWrites/pseuds/GraeWrites
Summary: Watching Roman fall apart is like watching a star collapse in on itself. And he does it center-stage. Single spotlight.





	Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> One day I will be caught-up in cross-posting from Tumblr, but I'm still working on it for now. his involved a lot of introspection and emotional processing for me. But it’s… a piece that became very close to my heart. In some ways, I wonder if that is maybe why it was harder to write and work though. But I hope you all like it. It’s… less plot-driven that most of my other fics.

It had been happening so gradually that Roman hadn’t even noticed at first.

He supposes it started with the little moments. Virgil actively swerving to avoid brushing shoulders with him as they passed one another in the kitchen, Roman belting  _Singin’ In the Rain_. Logan shrugging out from under his hand when the Prince clapped it on his shoulder during a particularly riveting tale of slaying a dragon during his most recent quest.

But it was fine. Roman was a Prince, an adventurer, a pursuer of romance. He swept some of the most handsome princes off their feet. He held their hands, danced with them in the moonlight. A new quest, a new face, a new hand to hold. But it wasn’t the same because it wasn’t real. Not totally.

Holding the other prince close for a moment wasn’t the same as one of Patton’s hugs or Virgil leaning against his arm while they watched a movie. Roman couldn’t explain why other than the fact that the Creative Side was always conscious, in the back of his mind, that one was fantasy and the other was reality. He could  _feel_  that difference in the contact between them.

So when Roman sat down at the end of the couch as they all settled in to watch  _101 Dalmatians_ , maybe a small part of him hoped that Virgil would curl up at his side. Or that Patton would ruffle his hair as he passed by with a bag of popcorn. Or Logan would decide to lay down with his head in the Prince’s lap.

Except that when Patton walked by with the popcorn, he smiled and didn’t touch Roman. Virgil sat beside him, but left a few inches of space between them. Logan stretched out on the floor in his unicorn onesie, his back against Virgil’s legs and not Roman’s. The Creative Side’s fingers twitched against his red pajama pants but he forced a smile when he noticed Virgil arching an eyebrow at him.

It goes on for weeks, and Roman becomes increasingly aware of it. He just doesn’t understand  _why_.

And God forbid he ask. Ask why, ask to cuddle, ask for a brief hug.

He’ll just cling a little harder, a little longer, to the next prince of his fantasy and pretend that’s enough. Because that’s what Roman is good at, right? He’s the expert at pretend. At make-believe.

_…_

“That idea does not seem particularly… worthy of our time.”

Roman shoots Logan a glare as he crosses the idea off the list with a particularly forceful pen stroke. The Creative Side skims the length of the page in his notebook. 25 ideas, all with increasingly dark lines through them.

This was the third day of brainstorming with all of the Sides and Thomas together.

“Oh?” Roman shoots back, his frustration flaring. “And what would be ‘worthy’, Encyclopedia Frown?”

Logan looks taken aback for a moment before he adjusts the frame of his glasses. “You can’t honestly tell me that you felt that idea was reasonable.”

“Well look who’s feeling all high and mighty, Mr… Know-It-All?” Inwardly, Roman groans at himself. Even his nicknames were beginning to slip now. He presses on. “I don’t see you being particularly forthcoming with ideas.”

Logan gives him a cool stare before looking to Thomas. “I can’t talk to him like this. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I do not engage with tantrum throwers.”

“Guys,” Thomas sighs, but Roman jumps in, affronted.

“ _Trantrum thrower_?” he demands with a scoff. “You’re one to talk, Logan!”

The Logical Side presses fingers to his temple and closes his eyes. “It’s just… you’re emotionally charged. You’re never  _realistic_. And it makes you hard to be around. Surely that can’t come as a surprise to you.”

“Now, kiddo,” Patton interrupts, but the argument had died on Roman’s tongue anyway.

 _Was that it?_  Was that the reason they’d all been keeping their distance from him? Roman was too loud, too flamboyant, too dramatic? Shone too brightly that instead of leading the way as a beacon he merely made them want to shield their eyes?

 _Oh_ , is all Roman can think.

“Guys,” Thomas cuts in, interrupting Roman’s thoughts. “We’re almost two weeks behind. We’ve gotta come up with something.”

“I will!” The Prince defends suddenly.  “I just… I’ll go on another quest or something.”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Virgil straighten up a little. The Anxious Side had been quietly chewing his thumbnail. “You’ve been going on those more and more, Princey. How helpful have they actually been at giving you good ideas?”

Roman grits his teeth and flips the notebook closed. “They’ve been fine, okay? I just… need to find the right one.”

“Maybe if someone came with you—“ Virgil tries but Roman cuts him off.

“No!”

Virgil’s eyes go wide at the harsh outburst. Roman winces inwardly. He hadn’t meant to yell at him.

“Roman,” Patton chides.  

“I’m sorry,” he says, quieter. “It’s just… we all know that you being in my realm is a bad idea. Remember what happened last time?” Virgil looks away. Roman sighs. “Besides, I can do this on my own.”

Thomas glances between the Sides. “How long will it take?”

“I’ll…” Roman can feel all four of their gazes bearing down on him. His shoulders feel heavy with the weight of them. “I’ll have fresh ideas by morning. I promise.”

_…_

It’s dusk. The low setting sun filters orange and gold light through the French doors of the bedroom. The Creative Side grips the edge of the bathroom counter and bows his head for a moment. Soon he’d be heading off on yet another quest, to best another beast, and hopefully come home with some semblance of passable ideas to present to the other Sides.

Perhaps, Roman can’t help but wonder, doing this could bring that spark of pride into their eyes that the Creative Side so desperately yearned to see. Maybe they won’t want to keep their distance quite so much if he can just prove to them that he’s… worthy of them.

Roman glances up at the mirror on the wall before giving a small start at a figure standing in the entryway between the open bathroom door and the bedroom.

“Deceit.” Roman looks at him tiredly through the reflection in the mirror.

“Roman. Looking stately as ever.”

The Prince looks at himself again. A white t-shirt hangs loosely on his shoulders. Dark circles under his eyes stand out against his pale skin. His hair is disheveled, and he runs his fingers through it in an attempt to pull it back under control. He looks like an uncool mess.

“Kind of you to say,” Roman replies with a faint smile. He turns away from the mirror and crosses into his bedroom, passing Deceit on the way. “What brings you here?”

Deceit lifts a shoulder in a modest shrug. “Can’t I just drop by to check in once in a while?”

“Of course,” Roman replies, surprised. “But I assure you, I’m quite alright.”

“Now Roman,” Deceit purrs. “You can’t lie to me.”

The Creative Side freezes for a moment before recovering, attempting to disguise the pause with a scoff. “I’m just feeling a bit tired.”

“Well I would think so,” Deceit replies, stepping further into the bedroom. “After the way Patton, Logan, and Virgil tore down your ideas today, I think anyone would be exhausted. And you had tried so hard on them, too. Thomas has a deadline coming soon. A few of them, actually. Not to mention the feedback he got on the last video. I mean, his fans are nice, but a few people did mention it was a bit… uninspired, and–”

“I get it.”

Deceit arches an eyebrow at him. “I’m merely trying to look out for Thomas, Roman.”

“No, I… I know. I’ll… I’ll figure something out.” The Creative Side sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps… Virgil was right? About someone coming with me. Maybe I could ask Patton for help on my quest. Or… even Logan. He might not be impacted like Virgil is, and…” Maybe if he invites them along, he can make sure the ideas he brings back with him are good ones.

The bowler hat casts long shadows across Deceit’s sharp cheekbones as he purses his lips. “Are you sure that’s really the best course of action, Roman?”

Roman’s eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean? Logan may be a pain in the Nexus but—“

Deceit waves a yellow gloved hand. “I’m not talking about Logan. I’m talking about you.”

“I… I don’t follow…”

Deceit’s yellow eye glints in the shadow. “Well, think about it. You’re a Prince, Roman. Do princes rely on other people when the going gets tough, or are they strong enough to stand on their own two feet?”

Roman feels something twist in his stomach. He rubs the back of his head. “I…”

“Besides… coming up with ideas is your job, isn’t it?” Deceit asks. “I mean, that’s what you  _do_  for Thomas. And if you have to ask others for help when things get a little tough, then what conclusions might they draw?”

Roman swallows. “I just…”

“You don’t want them to think you’re weak, do you?”

The Prince shuts his eyes against the thought. “No, but—“

“Could you bear to let them down like that?”

Roman suddenly feels nauseous.  _No._  Deceit is right. Of course asking for help is letting them down. It’s showing weakness. He’s a warrior; there shouldn’t be room for weakness. He can handle things on his own. He has to. That’s the only way, isn’t it? Of proving himself? If asking them for help is to let them down, then… that takes it off the table completely. He can do it himself.

When he opens his eyes, Deceit is gone.

…

Roman shows up to the brainstorming session the following morning two hours late empty handed. His hair is dirty and oily. His white suit is rumpled. He’d done his best to clean up the dirt, grime, and small cuts on his face—wounds from a battle with a particularly nasty Chimera—before showing up.

A part of him hadn’t wanted to show up at all, but he could feel Thomas calling him and he couldn’t ignore the pull in his gut forever.

“Roman!” Thomas sighs in relief when the Prince finally rises up. “Please tell me you have something.”

Roman’s hands start to shake at his side. “I… I’m…”

“Roman, are you okay?” Patton asks, the worry ringing clear in his voice.  _No, no, no. You’re slipping, Roman. Pull it together._

Roman blinks a few times and shakes his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, Padrè.”

“So the quest was successful then? Feeling full of awesome, new ideas?” Thomas asks. The hope in his voice makes Roman’s stomach sink to his shoes.

“It…” He can’t let Thomas down, but he can’t lie to him either. “It… could have gone significantly worse?”

Thomas nods, but Roman catches the way his smile falters. “Okay, we can work with that,” the host says encouragingly. “What do you have?”

Roman chews his lip quietly. He looks at his shoes. “I… don’t.”

“What do you mean you don’t?” Logan asks.

“I mean… I’m…”

Roman pulls together the remaining shreds of his courage and looks up, just in time to see realization dawn in Thomas’s eyes. He doesn’t have to look around to know that the Sides have reached the same understanding. Roman didn’t have anything for them.

“Oh,” Thomas says, and it crushes the last of the air from Roman’s lungs.  _He’s let Thomas down._

His ribs ache and Roman isn’t sure anymore if it’s from where the Chimera had clawed his skin or from the weight of sadness he sees in Thomas’s eyes. It doesn’t matter. All Roman knows is that it is hard to breathe.

“Why don’t we do a behind the scene Q and A for our next video then?” Logan offers after the silence has dragged on.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess,” Thomas says. His voice sounds far away.

“Thomas, I’m sorry. I’ll… I’lll…” Roman pleas, reaching a hand out before stopping himself.

Thomas shakes his head and gives Roman a smile but it’s small and The Creative Side sees a note of pity in it. “It’s okay, Roman. Promise.”

“No, it’s—it’s  _not_.” The Prince’s voice cracks. In his peripheral, he can see everyone’s heads snap towards him. “You all don’t understand.”

“Then help us to,” Logan replies.

Roman opens his mouth, then closes it. His hands ball into fists in an attempt to stop the shaking. “I’m…I’m not…” He can’t get the words jammed up in his throat to come out. “Look, I  _get_  it. I just thought….” He forces out, reaching desperately at the tattered remains of a shattered bravado.

_Your last chance to prove yourself worthy and you blew it._

_Such a disappointment._

“I’m… afraid I don’t understand,” Logan says.

Logan was really going to make him say it, wasn’t he? “That’s okay,” Roman tells him, a bitter taste flooding his mouth. “Because I do. I understand.”

“Kiddo?” Roman feels the Moral Side’s hand brush his shoulder and the sudden contact is so jolting that the Prince flinches.

“Roman,” Virgil says, his voice suddenly hard and earnest. “What do you understand?”

“That I’m too much, okay?” Roman snaps, and it’s like opening the floodgates. “That I give too much and say too much and I’m arrogant and stupid and needy and I take up too much space. I’m just… I’m  _too much_. And I just… I thought if maybe… if I could…”

Thomas is shaking his head. “Roman—“

“No, I’m….” Roman cuts in, hoping the others don’t notice the way the world blurs as tears press against his eyes.  _Here you go, Roman. Another tantrum._  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have even said anything.”

“Roman, let us—“

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I just… I just….” His voice is starting to shake.  _Shit_ , he thinks.  _Not here. Not in front of them. You’ve already disappointed them once. You’re so weak, Roman._  “I need a minute. I’m sorry, everyone.”

“Please—“ But the Creative Side has already sunk out.

…

Roman stands on the empty stage, and it is in this absence that he feels the weight suffocate his lungs.

His knees land hard and jarring on the wood beneath him. The spotlight sears his eyes, hot and damning against his skin. He clenches his jaw and swallows down the anguished sob that claws up his throat and scratches against the back of his teeth.

He does not know how he landed here, like this. How he got to this point. The past months have become a blurred haze of scrapped ideas and bitter exhaustion seeping slowly and sharply into the microscopic tears in his muscle. New quests in pursuit of the next big idea only to come crashing back home empty handed and bleeding and  _alone_.

A few days later, and do it all over again. Longer quests. Bigger monsters. Over and over and over.

Roman was bright and loud, with his eyes turned towards the heavens. A mountain in the way was merely an adventure yet to happen. Give him an ocean of impossibility and he’d find a way to build a boat. The Prince was larger than life. He was a stained glass mosaic of ambition and imagination.

Better to be too much than not enough. Better to fly too high than to never fly at all.

And if this kept the other Sides at bay? If the ramifications involved going a little longer without a hug, or feeling them pull away when brushing arms in the kitchen doorway? If he was constantly labeled as Extra and theatrical, well, Roman could endure that on his own. Roman could endure anything.

_Except, apparently, the look of disappointment in their eyes._

Roman’s hands are shaking again and he tightens his fists, his nails cutting into his palm hard enough to break skin. He drags in a quivering breath through his teeth. His chest heaves and he screws his eyes shut.

_So dramatic._

The air in his lungs is at once stale and sharp and he forces it out through his nose but there’s too much of it. Some of it forces his teeth open in a strangled cry. He buries his fingers in his hair and tugs at his roots. He curls in on himself. The silence around him echoes like thundering applause.

The Prince.

_Stupid. Selfish. Needy._

On his knees.

_Always too much, Roman._

Center stage.

_Such a let-down, Roman._

Single spotlight.

“Roman? Roman!”

The Prince doesn’t look up, even as he hears feet pounding down the aisle of the theater towards the stage. Roman curls in tighter. He shakes his head, hard and adamant, his eyes clenched shut. Was it Thomas? Logan, Patton, Virgil? Hell, Deceit? It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to be seen like this.

“No,” Roman spits out. “Get-get out!”

“Roman…” The voice is softer this time. The Creative Side feels the stage shake beneath his knees as they jump up onto it. He instinctively flinches away.

“I-I don’t… please, just…” He hiccups. Roman opens his eyes, staring intently at the black wood pattern of the stage floor. His breaths are shallow and fast in his ribcage.

A shadow blocks the unbearable heat from the stage lights above as it stands in front of him. The light shifts again as the shadow moves. When Roman risks a glance up, he sees Virgil crouched in front of him. The Anxious Side has wide, soft eyes beneath his sweep of purple bangs. His hands are extended outwards slightly towards Roman.

“Roman?” he says, gentle and soothing. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He drags in another breath. It trembles in his lungs. His jaw snaps shut and he shakes his head. The world blurs around him. Something hot and wet slides down his cheeks. The Prince digs the heel of his hands into his eyes.

“Ro…” The nickname is a soft reassurance. “Can you look at me?”

With a herculean effort, Roman pulls his hands away from his eyes and looks back up at the Side across from him. It’s only then that he notices Logan and Patton and Thomas standing a few steps away, watching the two of them worriedly. Roman feels his eyes burn all over again.

He blows out a harsh, frustrated sigh. “I… I’m sorry…”

“No, you don’t need to be sorry, kiddo,” Patton speaks up softly. The stage creaks just a little in the empty theatre as the Moral Side takes a few steps closer. “Honest.”

Roman brushes the back of his hand under his eyes. “I just… I didn’t want…” Roman trails off as the lump in his throat hardens.

“I know,” Virgil says softly. When Roman looks up at him in surprise, the corner of Virgil’s mouth curls upward in something that might’ve been a smile if it didn’t look quite so sad.

“Ro, please talk to us,” Patton says. He kneels on the floor beside Roman. The Prince hears the sound of shoes scuffing against the wood as Logan moves from where he’d been frozen behind Virgil. Thomas stays a few steps back, his brown eyes both bright and soft with concern.

Where is he even supposed to begin? “I… I let you down. All of you.” Something tightens in his chest. Hearing the words aloud feels like a death sentence. “Thomas said I couldn’t, but I  _did_ , I  _know_  I did.”

Thomas takes a step forward. “Roman—“

“Oh, save me the pity, Thomas,” Roman replies, something sharp and raw in his voice. “I saw it in your eyes—“ his voice catches, cutting the rest of the sentence off. A beat of silence follows.

“You didn’t let him or any of us down, kiddo.” Roman feels something warm and soft and light fall across his back. When he looks up at the Moral Side, he notices the cat hoodie tied around his shoulders is gone. Roman reaches around and looks at the fabric draped across him. It’s light, and smells like the father figure. His fingers curl in the fabric on his shoulders.

“Patton’s right, Roman,” Thomas adds softly. “I was… sad that you seemed to be taking it so hard. Not… disappointed. And never in you.”

Roman’s eyes burn and he takes in a shaky breath as Virgil speaks up slowly. “You did seem to be taking it… personally. But you don’t have to figure things out like that on your own.”

“Yes, I do,” Roman argues, but his voice comes out just barely above a whisper. “This… it’s my burden to carry. It’s my job. I didn’t… I didn’t want you to think I was weak. I wanted… to be worthy of all of you, and I thought… maybe if I could prove myself… I’d… I’d finally…” Roman’s thoughts start tripping over themselves, his words twisting together clumsily in his mouth.

“Roman, this…” Virgil purses his lips.  “This whole ‘take on the world by yourself’ thing… That’s too much weight for one person to carry. You’ll crumple every time.”

“How do  _you_  know?” It comes out accusingly, but the Prince means it desperately. Roman digs his hands into his hair again. “I’m… I’m supposed to…”  _Be brave. Be strong._

“I know because I’ve tried.” Virgil’s reply is as soft as it is unyielding. “Because I’ve been there before.”

There’s a moment of silence. The stage floor is cold and hard and unforgiving beneath him. Roman doesn’t know how to explain to them. His thoughts buzz with half-finished thoughts, a swirl of vague emotions that never quite form into anything Roman can name. He doesn’t think he can physically make the words form past the tip of his tongue.  _Weak. Selfish. Needy._

“I… I can’t…”  _Let you down._

“Roman.” The tenderness in the way Logan says his name surprises him so much he looks up. The Logical Side has a solemnity in his eyes. “You are not as alone as you may feel. If any of us did or said anything that contributed to your feeling of isolation, it was not intentional.” He pauses. “You should not feel obligated to go through anything without support.”

“We’re here for you, kiddo,” Patton adds softly.

Roman shakes his head, looking away. “I’m a  _knight_ ,” he grits out. “I’m supposed to be brave and strong and—“

“Reaching out when one is in distress is often the bravest thing someone can do,” Logan interrupts firmly. “And it takes  _tremendous_ strength.”

Roman opens his mouth to argue, but he sees a certain fire in the Logical Side’s eyes and the words die on his tongue. Logan returns his gaze unflinchingly, a determined set to his jaw. He means every word. Of course he did, he’s  _Logan_ ; Logan never said anything just for sentiment. But Roman can’t remember the last time he looked quite so… emphatic, in his own way.

Before he’s even fully aware of what he’s doing, Roman launches himself right into Logan’s chest, his arms wrapping around his torso. He feels the Logical Side stiffen a moment and the Prince starts to pull back, mortified.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came—“

But Logan’s arm drapes across his back, securing him in a warm embrace. “No apology is necessary. You are supported here.”

“You’re not alone, Roman,” Thomas adds.

Virgil nods with a rare, soft smile. “You are enough.” Roman feels him lean against his arm.

Roman releases a watery, weak laugh when Patton ruffles his hair before rubbing circles in his back. “And God, are you  _loved_ , kiddo.”

And for the first time in a long time, Roman thinks maybe he is finally starting to believe them.


End file.
